THE LOST HEIR OF THE IMMORTAL WAR GOD

CHAPTER 4: THE FORBIDDEN AWAKENING

Hit me," Kael Tornhart commanded.

Axton stared. "What?"

"You heard the old man. Full power. Everything you’ve got. Warborne legacy, black lightning, the whole mess." Kael stood in the heart of his impossible roof garden, hands clasped behind his back, the picture of an unconcerned grandfather. "If you manage to land a single strike, I will consume this moss."

"I'll kill you."

"You won't." Kael’s smile was infuriatingly calm. "I fought your father to a standstill. Twice. You are not him. Not yet. Perhaps never. Now stop wasting my valuable time and strike."

Axton's hands clenched, responding to the exhaustion and the pressure. The power in his chest stirred, a dark serpent responding to the heat of his emotion.

He threw a punch.

Kael was gone.

"Predictable," the old man’s voice chided from behind him. "Your body broadcasts intent three seconds before you move. Any cultivator above Bronze rank sees you coming."

Axton spun, launching a kick.

He missed.

"Slow. Your father crossed twenty feet in a heartbeat. You move like you are wading through heavy mud."

Anger surged, and the nascent power flared with it. Axton felt the Aegis Veins trying to manifest, sporadic bursts of midnight blue lightning crawling across his skin.

He lunged, closing the distance, striking for Kael’s center mass.

Kael’s finger gently tapped Axton's forehead.

Axton flew backward, crashing into a spiraling tree that held him like a soft, living trap. Exotic birds that defied the altitude limits chirped a mocking chorus overhead.

"That was pathetic," Kael observed, unmoving. "You try to fight like a mortal while channeling divine power. It fails. You must stop thinking and begin feeling."

Axton extricated himself, dropping onto the strangely soft grass. "I don't understand the power."

"Of course you don't. You've owned it for less than a day." Kael gestured at him. "The Aegis Veins. Your father’s technique. Do you know its function?"

"Protection?"

"A fraction of it. The Aegis has three primary modes. Black for defense. Red for offense. Blue for balance. Right now, you flicker between them like a faulty lamp. Unstable. Dangerous. Mostly to yourself."

Kael began a slow, deliberate circle around Axton. "The Warborne do not cultivate Qi conventionally. You consume it. Absorb it. Every attack thrown against you can be devoured and claimed. But only if the Aegis is stable. Only if you are in control."

He stopped. "Show me Black Mode. Pure defense."

Axton closed his eyes, reaching for the power. It surged instantly, too much, too fast. He tried to force it into shape.

The Aegis Veins erupted on his arms. Black, but shot through with angry threads of red. Unstable.

"Wrong," Kael stated. "You are forcing the river. The Aegis is not a tool you wield. It is a part of you. Like breathing. You do not analyze breathing. You simply do."

"I don't know the technique."

"Then learn. Quickly. Because I am about to strike."

Kael’s palm came out. Not Qi-enhanced, but delivered with perfect, brutal economy.

It impacted Axton's ribs like an iron hammer.

He collapsed, gasping for air. The Aegis failed instantly.

"Again," Kael ordered.

Axton stood, the power in his chest burning with raw frustration. The old, terrible voice whispered: Let me out. I will show this old fool what we are.

No, Axton thought back.

You are weak. Let me handle this.

No.

Kael struck again. Axton tried to dodge, failed, the blow rocking his shoulder.

"You are listening to it," Kael said, his voice cutting through the pain. "The legacy voice. I see it in your eyes. It offers power and promises victory. Ignore it."

"It's loud," Axton ground out.

"It is always loud. Especially when you are desperate." Kael’s expression softened momentarily. "Your father fought that voice every day of his life. The difference between the days he won and the days he lost was the difference between a man and a weapon."

Another strike. Axton barely managed to block. His forearm screamed.

"The Aegis responds to intent," Kael continued, pressing his assault. "Not force. Not anger. Intent. You must choose to defend. Not out of fear, but because it is your will."

Strike. Block. Dodge. Miss. Get hit. Stand.

Axton stopped trying to force the power. He stopped fighting the feeling. He simply allowed it to exist.

The Aegis Veins manifested. Pure Black. Solid. Steady.

Kael's next strike hit the sheer barrier of black lightning around Axton's forearm.

It did not break. It held.

Kael smiled, genuinely this time. "That is Black Mode. Defense. The Aegis anticipates force and creates a perfect barrier. Not invincible, but enough to let you survive the impossible."

He stepped back. "Now Red Mode. Offense."

"I don't want to hurt you," Axton insisted.

"You won't. But you must try. Red Mode is destruction. It is what you used at the altar. Uncontrolled, it makes Warborne monsters. Controlled, it wins wars."

Kael shifted his stance, shedding the grandfatherly facade. "Attack me. Red Mode. Controlled. Do not let it explode. Direct it."

Axton reached for the power. The Aegis instantly shifted from black to red. The difference was profound: black was cool and calm; red was white-hot, hungry, seeking to destroy.

His vision tinted crimson.

"Control it!" Kael’s voice cut the haze. "You are not its servant. It is yours."

Axton struck. His fist trailed red lightning, a devastating energy.

Kael caught his wrist effortlessly mid-strike.

The red lightning surged, attempting to devour the old man.

Kael's own Qi flared, gray smoke, smelling of winter. It contained the red, compressing it, forcing it to collapse back into Axton's arm.

"Too much aggression," Kael said calmly. "Red Mode amplifies hate. Use it incorrectly, and it uses you."

He released Axton. "Blue Mode. Balance. The hardest to achieve. The most important to master."

Axton was panting, sweat plastering his hair to his temples. "How?"

"By choosing neither pure defense nor pure offense. By accepting both and transcending both." Kael's voice took on the rhythm of ancient teaching. "Blue Mode is the flow. It allows you to shift seamlessly between black and red. To defend and attack in the same breath. It separates the warrior from the weapon."

Axton closed his eyes. The black pulled one way; the red, another.

He sought the space between the extremes.

The Aegis flickered: Black. Red. Black.

Then, for a single, fleeting heartbeat, Midnight Blue.

It felt different. Alert, yet peaceful. Like finding a perfect balance point on the edge of a great cliff.

The blue vanished immediately.

"Good," Kael said. "That is the foundation. You will spend months attempting to hold Blue Mode for more than a second. Years learning to transition in combat. Decades learning to do it without thought."

"I don't have decades."

"No. You do not." Kael produced a ceramic cup from his robes and took a slow sip of tea. "The Revenant Heptarchy does not grant training time. They kill threats early. You are their primary threat."

"So what do I do?"

"You learn fast. You make mistakes. You survive them. Repeat until you are competent or dead." Kael took another sip. "You will live here. The Tower is heavily warded. They cannot breach it easily. Outside, you would last a day at best."

Axton looked around the impossible garden. "I have nowhere else."

"Most of my students don't." Kael was matter-of-fact. "I will teach you everything your father should have: combat, control, theory, and survival in a world that wants you extinct."

"Why?" Axton asked, the question escaping before he could stop it. "The life debt is one thing. But this is more. Training me makes you a target."

Kael was silent for a long moment. "Your father was my friend. One of three true friends in seventy years of life. He died buying you seventeen years. It would be a waste to allow that gift to be squandered because I was too afraid to honor my debt."

He paused, then added in a lighter tone, "Also, I am profoundly bored. Running a sect is administrative nonsense. Teaching a Warborne heir how to not become a genocidal war god is, at the very least, interesting."

Axton laughed, small and genuine. "Thank you."

"Do not thank me yet. You may die during training. I have killed three students accidentally. Well. Two accidentally. One deserved it." Kael put down his tea. "You have maybe six hours before the Heptarchy traces you here. Rest. Shower. You smell like death's outhouse. A room is prepared three floors down."

"Six hours?"

"They are efficient. Once they confirm you left the sewers, they will systematically search. The Tower stands out. I am known for lost causes. They will come." Kael’s eyes met Axton's, storm-gray and certain. "When they arrive, you will 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 waved toward the elevator. "Six hours. Rest. Prepare. Then we shall see if you are truly Warborne or merely a boy with a dangerous name."

Axton walked to the elevator. The doors opened immediately. The mirror inside was clear.

The elevator descended.

The Siren's Call

Three floors down, Axton found the room: simple, clean, and dominated by a large window showing the city fully awake. Black, practical cultivation robes lay on the bed.

He stripped the ruined ceremonial whites and stood beneath water so hot it felt like both pain and purification. He watched the grime and the faint, dark blood wash away.

The scars remained: the silver War mark on his chest, the thin lines on his wrists, evidence etched in flesh.

He dressed in the black robes. They fit perfectly.

A soft chime. Kael's voice, slightly distorted, crackled from the speaker. "They're early. Four hours instead of six. They've surrounded the Tower."

Axton's heart hammered.

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

The speaker clicked silent.

Axton drew the hidden blade. The dark metal was cold, the symbols a reminder. The Warborne Never Kneel.

He walked to the elevator and pressed the roof button.

The doors opened onto the garden.

Kael stood at the edge, holding a sword Axton hadn't seen, a straight blade, gray as his eyes. Below, hundreds of cultivators surrounded the Tower, their combined Qi making the air shimmer.

Seven figures in black robes and crimson crescent pins, the Revenant Heptarchy's champions, stood at the front.

One figure raised a hand. The voice boomed, amplified by technique.

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

Kael did not turn. "Always so dramatic. Three hundred sixty-seven of them. Good turnout."

Axton stepped up beside him.

"The seven in front are the threat," Kael murmured. "Peak Gold Rank or higher. They are a problem even for me."

"Can you beat them?"

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

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

"Yes, you are. Because I am the teacher, and you are the student." Kael’s gaze hardened. "This is Lesson Two, Axton. Knowing when to let go isn't cowardice. It's the difference between your father, who died, and a survivor."

"The Warborne never kneel."

"They retreat. They survive. Your father's motto got him killed. Try a new one. The Warborne Never Die Stupidly."

The voice boomed: "THIRTY SECONDS."

Kael’s Qi flared, gray smoke rolling outward, pushing back the hostile pressure. "When I say move, you go back to the elevator. I buy you time to run."

"I'm not running," Axton said, his own will settling the matter.

Kael sighed. "Stubborn like your father. Fine."

The seven champions ascended, rising on platforms of Qi. The garden light changed to a pulsating red.

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

Axton felt the Aegis Veins manifest. Not black. Not red. Midnight Blue. Balance. Control.

"I'm not running," Axton repeated.

Kael smiled, sad and resigned. "Students never listen. Fantastic."

The first champion, a woman in a white bone mask, landed on the roof's edge. "Kael Tornhart. Step aside. The boy dies today."

Kael raised his sword. "Counterproposal. You leave. I don't kill you. Everyone goes home happy."

"You are outnumbered."

"I'm old. There's a difference." Kael set down his tea, pulling the sword into a ready stance. "You want him, you go through me."

The seven champions surrounded them.

"So be it." The woman moved.

Seven attacks launched simultaneously.

Kael’s sword became a blur of gray lightning. Three champions recoiled instantly. The fourth’s attack bent the air and struck the sky.

"MOVE!" Kael roared.

Axton moved. Forward. Toward the woman.

She threw black Qi chains, the chains from the altar.

Axton’s Aegis shifted to Red, a momentary, controlled burst. His dark knife met the chains. The Qi constructs shattered.

The woman’s masked eyes widened.

Axton struck, not with thought, but with the controlled precision of the Aegis.

Kael was there instantly, his sword forcing the woman back. "I said MOVE!"

"Not without you!"

"Fine. We retreat together!" Kael’s sword drew a shimmering line, creating a wall of gray smoke. "Next time, you listen!"

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

Kael slammed a panel. "Emergency descent!"

The elevator plummeted, a gut-wrenching fall through three hundred floors.

The doors opened onto absolute darkness.

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

Axton followed, plunging into the unknown. He was still running, but this time, he ran toward survival.