WORLDBREAKER: Rise of the Reborn Flame

Blood awakening.

The ground rumbled beneath Adam’s feet as he stared at the girl suspended within the crystal. Her eyes were glowing red, like molten gems never left his face. Her voice had been soft, barely more than a whisper, yet it echoed in his bones like a thunderclap.

“Help.”

It was not just a plea.

It was a command.

The black altar below her pulsed with ancient runes. Runes older than any kingdom Adam had ever heard of. Nyra stepped forward, lips moving silently as she read the etchings.

“This isn’t human magic,” she muttered. “It’s something else. Old. Primal.”

Adam’s sword hummed at his side. The Essence within it surged to life, resonating with the crimson aura surrounding the girl. It was as though the blade recognized her.

Or feared her.

“What is she?” Adam asked.

Nyra’s eyes were grim. “Not what. Who? That is a Bloodbound. A being created by fusing a soul with raw, unstable Essence. They were wiped out during the Age of Splintering.”

“Wiped out,” Adam repeated. “Then why is she alive?”

Nyra shook her head slowly. “She shouldn’t be. Unless…”

A crack formed in the crystal.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat.

The girl’s eyes widened. “He’s waking up.”

The earth convulsed violently.

From beneath the altar, something ancient stirred. Dust rose in clouds. The bones carved into the platform vibrated like plucked strings. And then suddenly the altar split in two with a claw emerging.

Dark, gnarled, and longer than any man’s body.

Nyra screamed, “Back! Adam, get away from it!”

But he couldn’t move.

The claw gripped the edge of the altar. Then a second followed. And then rising from the abyss a creature emerged. Ten feet tall, covered in shadowy scales that pulsed with violet Essence. Its face was masked by bone, its eyes hollow pits that burned with a sickly green light.

A Dreadspawn but not like any Adam had seen in Walter’s books. This one radiated intelligence.

It spoke, its voice like a choir of broken mirrors.

“She is mine.”

Nyra hurled her spear with a cry.

The weapon struck true, embedding deep in the beast’s neck but it didn’t even flinch.

Instead, it turned its gaze on her and smiled.

“MOVE!” Adam screamed, tackling Nyra as a black flame exploded where she had stood.

They crashed behind a boulder. The air reeked of burnt stone and sulfur.

Nyra groaned, half dazed. “That… wasn’t Essence.”

Adam helped her up. “Then what the hell was it?”

She pointed to the girl in the crystal. “She is the key. That thing wants her. We need to get her out. And fast.”

Adam stared at the crystal. He could feel its pulse matching his own heartbeat. The girl watched him, unblinking, her expression was calm. As if this was expected.

Adam gritted his teeth and raised his blade.

The sword flared as he swung.

Steel met crystal.

With a scream like a dying god, the barrier shattered into a thousand crimson shards.

The girl fell forward and Adam caught her.

Her skin was cold, but her eyes burned with life.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

And the Dreadspawn roared.

The battle began in a blur.

Nyra danced around the creature, flinging Essence-charged daggers and illusions to buy time. Adam stood protectively in front of the girl, who was too weak to move.

The Dreadspawn raised a claw.

Adam deflected with his sword but the force of the blow cracked stone.

He stumbled back, blood running from his mouth.

“I need… more,” he whispered.

The girl reached up, her palm pressing against his chest.

“You have me.”

Power surged through him.

It wasn’t Essence rather it was something deeper. Something older.

His veins lit with crimson light. His eyes burned gold. His blade extended, twisted, changed, becoming jagged and layered with molten runes.

His soul howled.

The creature lunged.

Adam met it mid-leap.

His steel clashed against its claws and the ground exploded.

When the dust settled, the Dreadspawn lay broken and twitching.

Adam stood over it, panting, his body wreathed in smoke and red aura. The girl behind him was standing now, her strength returned. She wore a look of serene understanding.

“You awakened my bond,” she said softly.

He looked at her, trembling. “What are you?”

She stepped forward, placing her hand gently over his heart.

“I am your Blood Echo. One half of a relic sealed away until a worthy soul called me forth.”

Nyra narrowed her eyes. “So you’re a weapon?”

The girl smiled faintly. “No. I am a memory given form. I carry the knowledge of the world before the Splintering. And I’ve waited lifetimes for someone like him.”

Adam shook his head. “I’m not special.”

“You’re needed.”

They rested in the ruins of the altar. The earth had gone still. The sky was black.

Nyra kept watch, silent, and pensive.

Adam sat beside the girl, who now wore a cloak fashioned from shadows. She called herself Selene.

“Why me?” he asked.

Selene’s eyes shimmered with the reflection of distant stars. “Because your soul carries the mark of the Fallen King.”

Adam frowned. “Who?”

“A being who once defied the gods. Slain for his arrogance, but cursed to reincarnate forever until his throne is reclaimed or destroyed.”

“And you think I’m him?”

“I know you are. Your dreams. Your instincts. Your defiance. They're all proof.”

He clenched his fists. “If I am, then I’ll make my own path. I won’t become anyone’s pawn, not a god, not a king, not a monster.”

Selene touched his cheek gently. “Then I will walk beside you, not as a guide, but as a witness.”

They climbed out of the Maw at dawn.

The world above had changed.

Smoke rose in the distance, black columns where Adam’s village once stood.

Nyra cursed under her breath. “We’re too late.”

Selene’s eyes narrowed. “The Dreadspawn wasn’t the only one freed.”

Adam’s blade pulsed with light.

He could feel it, there was a storm coming.

And he was no longer running from it.

He was the storm.

The wind howled across the scorched remains of the village.

What was once a scattering of wooden huts, winding paths, and laughter had become a graveyard of smoke and ash. Blackened corpses lay still beneath the pale morning light. Blood dried in runnels down charred walls. The stench was unbearable, an acrid blend of burned flesh, scorched timber, and something far fouler.

Adam stood at the edge of the devastation, sword sheathed and fists clenched.

“I failed them,” he muttered.

Nyra didn’t respond. She crouched beside a corpse, an old man with his throat torn open. Her hand closed his eyes gently.

Selene stood apart, watching the horizon, her eyes distant. “This wasn’t just a beast raid.”

Adam turned. “What do you mean?”

She gestured toward the eastern hills. “Look closely. The trees have been uprooted, the ground has melted… this was war magic. No orc shaman has that kind of power.”

Nyra rose, voice low and uncertain. “Then who?”

Selene’s gaze darkened. “A Heaven tier magician. And not just any mage. One trained in blood rites.”

Adam stiffened. “A human did this?”

“Yes,” Selene said. “But not one who serves any kingdom. This was the work of a Cultivator.”

They left the ruins behind. For days, they walked in silence. The skies wept grey rain. The trees whispered secrets. Occasionally, Adam heard a voice in the wind calling his name, not Selene’s, not Nyra’s, but something older. Something buried in the marrow of his soul.

Each night, the dreams returned.

In them, he saw a throne carved from bone. A crown that bled. A mirror that showed not his face, but a shadow's. A voice would always whisper at the end.

“Remember what you are.”

When he awoke, his hand always gripped his sword, his breath shallow, his Essence burning behind his eyes.

They reached the edge of the Bloodpine Forest on the fifth day.

And waiting beneath the looming, crimson-leafed trees was the old man again, leaning against a black stone pillar, his cloak tattered but regal, his silver hair flowing past his shoulders.

His eyes locked on Adam the moment they emerged from the trees.

“You’re late,” Walter said.

"Well…"

"I know what you are going to say." Walter steps forward, shifting him from Nyra and Selena.

He didn't expect Adam to return with company, but somehow he could tell that the company was good for him, as they've each in their unique way equipped him for the things to come.

The village was already destroyed, so Walter knew there was nothing left for Adam there, besides, he could see the fire now burning within him.

The flame that was ignited as a result of his journey to the Whispering Maw. A quest he had embarked on because he asked him to.

But now that flame needed to be tamed. Or it would be the death of him.

Yet he needed to know what brought him back and his gaze alone was enough to ask Adam that question.

"I am ready to learn. I want you to teach me."