2025-11-03 08:06:06
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Eighty Four: The Blade's Rebellion
After the duel with Serathiel, the ashes of celebration still clung to Dravengard’s streets. The people called Kael “Godslayer,” sang his name in trembling awe, but beneath the triumph ran a pulse of fear, low, constant, unspoken.Even the banners seemed to watch him now.Kael sat on the obsidian throne at the heart of the shattered palace. His armor, still cracked from battle, caught the dim torchlight. Across his knees rested the Godslayer Blade, veined with faint streaks of gold light, divine essence still trapped within its steel.It should have felt like victory.Instead, it felt like breathing beside a beast that hadn’t yet finished feeding.He stared at the sword in silence, his reflection shifting on its dark surface. For the first time since his rebirth, Kael felt something foreign coil beneath his skin, unease.The door creaked open. Aelira entered, her robes torn, hair bound loosely, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. “You should rest,” she said quietly. “You’ve not slept since
Eighty Three: Duel of the Execution
The night sky was no longer a sky. It was a wound, torn open, bleeding divine fire.Dravengard burned below it. The great banners of the Black Fang snapped in a storm of heat and ash, and in the middle of that chaos, two figures clashed like gods at war.Kael Draven’s cloak was in tatters, his black armor scorched and cracked, but his eyes were steady, two cold embers burning brighter the longer he bled.Opposite him stood Serathiel, the Executioner of Heaven, halo blazing, sword dripping molten light.Each time their blades met, the air screamed.The shockwave shattered towers, split the plaza, and sent soldiers and civilians fleeing in waves.Yet, none dared look away. Their Emperor fought for them and against him stood Heaven itself.Serathiel swung in a blinding arc, divine energy tearing through the ground. “You dare defy eternity itself!”Kael twisted, parrying just barely. The impact hurled him backward through a column, stone exploding around him. He rolled to his feet, coughi
Eighty Two: Festival Of chains
The city of Dravengard burned with light that night not from war, but from celebration.Thousands filled the rebuilt streets, torches and banners waving, drums beating like the pulse of the empire itself. Fireworks burst above the towers, showering the night with gold and crimson sparks. The scent of roasted meat and incense mixed with the cries of children running through the crowd.Kael Draven stood on the highest balcony of the black palace, the wind whipping his cloak behind him. His armor was polished obsidian, his crown carved from fragments of divine relics he’d taken from the gods themselves.Below, the voice of the herald boomed across the city:“Tonight, by decree of His Majesty, Emperor Kael Draven, the Festival of Chains begins!”The crowd erupted into cheers that shook the very stones.Kael’s gaze drifted over the sea of people, slaves, peasants, former soldiers of fallen kingdoms. For once, their faces weren’t twisted by fear. They were smiling.Aelira stood beside him,
Eighty One: The Emperor's Wrath
The traitors were dragged into the courtyard at dawn. Their screams echoed through the half-ruined city, carried by the bitter wind that swept across Dravengard’s broken spires. Blood stained the cobblestones like spilled ink. The scent of smoke and death clung to the air, thick, suffocating, alive.Kael stood on the balcony of the shattered palace, cloak sweeping around him in the cold wind. Below, his soldiers, those still loyal, watched in silence.The commanders knelt before him, their heads bowed.“Your Majesty,” one of them said quietly. “The traitors await your judgment.”Kael’s crimson eyes flicked down to the kneeling men below. Former disciples. Elders who had once called him Master. They now trembled in chains.“Judgment,” Kael repeated, voice calm, toneless. “They’ve already judged themselves.”He descended the stairs slowly, every step echoing in the courtyard’s silence. The soldiers parted like shadows as he passed.Aelira wasn’t there. She hadn’t spoken to him since th
Eighty: The Fang Splits
Kael stood at the highest tower of Dravengard, staring at the horizon as flames clawed at the distant hills. The air reeked of smoke and betrayal. Messengers rushed through the city below, their shouts carried by the wind.“Traitors! The western fort has fallen!”“Elder Maerin’s forces march with Heaven’s soldiers!”“The gods’ banners fly over our own!”Kael’s jaw clenched. His fingers dug into the stone railing until it cracked.“They moved faster than I thought,” Aelira said behind him. Her tone was calm, but her eyes burned with fury. “Ren and Maerin led the split. Half your army followed them.”Kael didn’t turn. “Half is enough to make them suffer.”“Half is enough to tear the empire apart.”He turned then, eyes glowing faint red in the dim light. “Then I’ll tear the world apart first.”Aelira exhaled sharply. “You can’t kill your way out of this forever, Kael.”He ignored her. “Summon the generals. Every stronghold still loyal to me must prepare. We march by nightfall.”“Kael!”
Seventy Nine: Council of Blood
The throne room was rebuilt from ruin, but the air still smelled of smoke and fear.Kael sat on his obsidian throne, a jagged thing carved from what was once the heart of the divine temple he’d burned down. Behind him, the banner of the Black Fang rippled in the heat, fangs around a bleeding sun.One by one, his high disciples entered. Cloaked, scarred, weary.Men and women who had followed him from the ashes of rebellion to the birth of an empire.Now they knelt, their eyes a mixture of awe and unease.Kael’s gaze swept across them. “You’ve seen what Heaven did to our world while I was gone. Temples on every hill, mortals kneeling to false gods. That ends now.”His voice echoed like thunder.No one spoke, until Elder Ren, his war strategist, stepped forward. His armor was cracked, his face marked with old burns.“My lord,” Ren began carefully, “our armies are stretched thin. We control half the continent, but supply lines are bleeding. The southern provinces resist our banners, and H
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