2025-06-20 05:38:55
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The Palace Subterra
A scout approached, panting.“They’ve landed.”Vesk didn’t blink. “Who?”The scout swallowed. “The Warborn. The Riftchild. The Flamebound ghost.”Vesk turned to his legions.“Seal the southern ravines. Raise the wards. The Emperor demands a hunt.”And without turning his head, he whispered to a raven perched on his shoulder.“Tell Varek: the blood he asked for... has come to offer itself.”Emperor Varek stood beneath the palace, in a chamber older than the empire itself. Surrounding him were seven glass sarcophagi, each pulsing with violet light.He was no longer in ceremonial armor. He wore robes of dusksteel and veined silk—stitched with the veins of a slain Wyrm-God. And across his chest, a pendant made from the tooth of a Riftbeast—Brown’s first kill.“They are here,” he said, voice echoing through stone.The woman beside him—face hidden behind a silver mask—nodded. “And the prophecies converge.”“Then it’s time,” Varek said, placing his palm upon the center sarcophagus.It opened
Black Legates
Above them, the Titan thrashed against its bindings. Its heartbeat was a drumbeat of war across every living soul in the realm.Suddenly, the floor cracked open—and Valric landed between them, fire coiling around him.“Stop!”Both men froze.Valric turned to Thorne.“I believed in your new world once. But you’re not trying to build anything anymore. You just want to see it all burn.”Thorne’s face contorted. “They left us in darkness!”Valric’s voice didn’t waver. “Then light a better fire.”He raised both hands—and channeled the last of the Wyrmglass flame into the Titan’s prison, not to awaken it… but to seal it.The air screamed.The Titan shrieked—a sound not of sound, but of reality tearing.“No!” Thorne lunged.Valric turned.And Brown was faster.His blade pierced Thorne’s heart—clean and final.Thorne’s eyes widened… then softened. “Maybe… that’s what I needed all along.”And he was gone.The spire was silent.Valric stood beside his father, watching the last light fade from t
Not Just Memories
The storm above Wyrmglass thickened into an unnatural vortex—black clouds veined with crimson energy, spinning in silence. Not thunder, not lightning… but pulses, as if something beyond the sky had begun to breathe.Brown moved with relentless focus through the battlefield, blade in hand, eyes locked on the tower that pierced the heavens.Behind him, Kael and Reyva fought back to back, leading Flamebound soldiers through ambushes laid by Thorne’s followers—mercenaries, warlocks, and Rift-twisted hybrids. Every skirmish brought them closer to the spire's base, and every death added weight to Brown’s already burdened soul.The closer they drew, the more he felt it.Valric.Not just memories. Not echoes.A presence.“Kael,” Brown said between breaths, ducking a cursed bolt of shadow, “if Valric’s spirit is inside that tower—if any part of him still exists—can you reach him?”Kael hesitated. “If I’m close enough to the source... and if he wants to be reached.”Brown looked up at the tower
Screamed
The next morning, Brown awoke before dawn. The air at the Temple of Flame was brisk, sharp, and full of that eerie stillness that often precedes a storm—whether of nature or war. He stood in front of the sacred pyre, staring into the flame that danced in silence, reflecting the conflict brewing inside him.Behind him, Kael entered quietly.“They’ve started moving,” Kael reported. “Scouts spotted activity in the old ruins of Vardrek Hollow. That’s Veridane territory. The locals say strange lights have been seen at night. Arcane ones.”Brown clenched his jaw. “Then it’s not just a political coup. They’re tapping into pre-Collapse magic. Forbidden stuff.”Kael hesitated before adding, “There’s one more thing. The Flame Council knows. And they’re debating whether to intervene.”Brown turned sharply. “Debating? The enemy is assembling an arcane weapon near our border and they’re debating?”Kael looked down. “They don’t want to ignite panic. They’ve ordered you to stand down. Return to your
Flame Council Again
As he crouched behind a boulder, he caught a glint of movement at the valley’s entrance—Riftspawn, ethereal scouts formed of codified echo-energy. They hovered, warning of the intruders.Brown’s heart pounded. “They’ve got echo-shields. I’ll need to disrupt their resonance.” He pressed a glyph-etched gauntlet against the rock face; it hummed, then unleashed a pulse that rippled outward like a pebble dropped in water.The Riftspawn convulsed, their forms sputtering. With them blinded, the Knights surged down the slope, spells and plasma bolts crackling in the dim light. Brown followed, sword raised, moving like storm-tide through the surprised camp.Wood splintered under heavy boots. Kael’s rifle barked, cutting down a mercenary who tried to rally his comrades. One Knight—Ser Ayden—caught a glancing blow but returned it with a precise parry, his flametongue blade roaring to life.Brown cut a path to the fire, where the raider leader stood, pistol raised. The man’s face was half-masked
The Council's Decision is Final
Brown crouched beneath the crumbling archway of an abandoned watchtower just beyond the Konzian border. The night was cold—quiet—too quiet for a land that had recently erupted in flames of conflict. His comm-link crackled faintly in his ear."Specter-01, do you read? Movement detected northwest quadrant."Brown pressed the transmitter. "Affirmative. Visual on two patrols. Proceeding to objective."He moved like a shadow between the stone ruins, the scent of ash and rust clinging to the damp air. Intelligence had led him here—Konzia wasn’t just retaliating at the border. Something darker was being orchestrated.Inside the ruined compound, he finally reached the steel hatch concealed beneath old mining debris. As he opened it, a wave of warm, artificial air rushed out—followed by the flicker of underground lights.He descended.The facility beneath wasn't just a bunker. It was a nerve center—full of flickering screens, data cores, and something more unsettling: a wall covered in digital
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