Chapter 0033: The Hollow Reflection – Facing the Flameborn Shadow
The forge's light still shimmered in Raiden's eyes, his newly-forged weapon humming with ancient power. But even that radiant warmth couldn't drown the chill creeping through his spine. Something… someone had felt the blade's awakening.
Far to the north, in the crumbled ruins of an abandoned kingdom swallowed by ash, the Hollow King stirred for the first time in centuries. But he did not rise alone.
From the black flame surrounding his throne stepped a figure.
Raiden's reflection.
But not the man he was now—the man he could become if he lost himself to vengeance, fear, and power.
The Gathering Storm
Back in Valnora, Elaris stood before the Council, her hands trembling over a glowing relic.
"The Hollow King has created a Shadowspawn," she announced grimly.
"An echo of Raiden—corrupted, powerful, forged in the Hollow Flame as a counterweight to the First Flameblade."
Thorne grimaced. "A clone?"
"No," she replied. "A mirror."
Lyra looked to Raiden. "What does that mean?"
Raiden stepped forward, his voice low but steady.
"It means I'm about to face myself. And only one of us walks away."
The Mirror Field
News of Hollow activity near the eastern cliffs brought the team out fast. The land there was scorched, the trees turned to stone, and the skies hung heavy with black clouds.
Raiden moved ahead, alone.
As he stepped into the clearing, he saw him.
The Hollow Reflection.
Same face. Same eyes. But void of fire. Void of empathy.
The Hollow Raiden wore a cloak of flickering black flame, and in his hand was a weapon like Raiden's—only colder, thinner, and whispering with a soul-crushing hum.
"You are a child playing with fire," the Hollow said.
"You believe you lead. But your fear makes every decision."
Raiden raised his blade.
"And you believe you're me. But I chose the flame. You were forged in fear."
They clashed.
The Battle of Flames
Flame met hollow.
Sparks split the sky as Raiden's molten-gold blade locked with his twin's obsidian steel. Their moves mirrored each other—perfectly. Each swing, each parry, each step—it was like fighting his own soul.
But the Hollow Reflection wasn't just mimicking his techniques. He spoke as they fought:
"You hesitate when you should burn."
"You show mercy to enemies who will kill your people."
"You'll lose everyone—again—because you're too afraid to become what you must."
And worst of all—
"You still dream of a world that doesn't exist."
Raiden faltered.
That moment was all it took.
The Hollow Reflection's blade pierced his side—just a graze, but enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Raiden collapsed to one knee.
But from the trees came a voice.
"Stand, Flameborn. You're not alone."
Lyra stepped into the clearing, sword raised. Behind her, Thorne with his staff blazing, Kaelen conjuring protection runes mid-air.
The Hollow tilted its head.
"So you bring friends."
Raiden looked up, gritting his teeth.
"No. I bring reasons."
He roared, reigniting his flame—not just from rage… but from loyalty, love, and the fire of everything worth protecting.
Flame Against Shadow
Round two began.
And this time, Raiden didn't fight to win.
He fought to protect.
His strikes became unpredictable—fueled by emotion, yes, but sharpened by purpose. He didn't aim to destroy the Hollow Reflection… he aimed to outgrow it.
And in the final strike, as golden fire clashed against black flame—
The Hollow shattered.
Ash fell like snow. The mirror was broken.
But Not Gone
Elaris met them as they returned to Valnora, Raiden barely standing.
She didn't smile.
"That wasn't the end," she said, eyes grim.
"That was only the test."
Raiden stared at the horizon, where ash clouds churned and rumbled with thunder.
"Then let's pass the next one with fire."
The sky above Valnora cracked—not with thunder, but with memory.
As Raiden rested in the High Keep, wounds still burning from his battle with the Hollow Reflection, a tremor pulsed through the land. Bells rang across the city, not from the towers, but from the ancient runes buried deep beneath them—runic wards tied to a time when gods still walked among mortals.
Elaris rushed to the flame library, her heart pounding.
There, the oldest tome—The Ember Codex—was glowing.
Not with magic…
But with remembrance.
The Return of Forgotten Names
The Ember Codex flipped itself open to a page none had seen in centuries: the Pantheon of Flame—a council of deities who once ruled the balance of creation and destruction, fire and shadow.
Solvinar – The Sunborn God, Bringer of Flame.Naeris – The Emberheart, Goddess of Creation.Vaelor – The Smoldering Blade, Patron of War.Lumae – The Silent Ash, Keeper of Forgotten Souls.
And…
Irix – The Hollow Flame, God of Ruin, once sealed beneath the world.
Raiden stood behind Elaris, silent.
"Irix…" he murmured.
"That's the name the Hollow King never speaks."
Elaris nodded, eyes wide.
"Because he wasn't always the Hollow King. He was a god."
A God Unsealed
The battle with the Hollow Reflection had done more than test Raiden's spirit.
It had cracked the seal placed on Irix by the Pantheon.
And now—gods long faded from history were beginning to stir.
In a distant, wind-scoured temple buried beneath obsidian sand, Solvinar blinked awake for the first time in 3,000 years.
His body, wreathed in golden light, sat upon a throne untouched by time. Flames spiraled gently around his hand as he whispered into the void:
"The Hollow stirs. So must I."
The First Divine Flame
That night, Raiden dreamed.
But it wasn't just a dream.
He stood within a ring of fire, surrounded by cosmic silhouettes—immense beings of light, ash, shadow, and molten power. They studied him, unreadable.
One of them stepped forward. Her voice was soft, yet echoed like a volcano waking.
"You carry our last flame," said Naeris, the Emberheart.
"But fire alone cannot defeat the Hollow. You must awaken the other relics."
Raiden frowned. "Relics?"
She pointed to the sword on his back—the First Flameblade.
"There were four. One for each pillar of our power. You've only claimed one."
And then the vision ended.
Raiden awoke with his palm scorched—and a new symbol glowing on his chest.
A spiral of four flames.
The Flameborn's New Quest
Elaris stood before the council the next morning.
"The Hollow King is a fallen god. And the gods are awakening. This war is no longer between kingdoms… it's between pantheons."
Raiden stepped forward, his voice firm.
"We find the relics. We awaken the rest of the Pantheon. And we end Irix before he regains his divinity."
Lyra grinned. "Finally. A mission worthy of legends."
The Wastes of Skar'Vul stretched endlessly, a sunless land where ash rained like snow and the wind howled with the screams of ancient wars. This was where time forgot itself—where armies had clashed for centuries until even the victors were consumed by the battlefield.
Raiden stood at the edge of this cursed land, flanked by Lyra and Thorne. The air was thick with the scent of scorched metal and blood long dried.
"This place feels… angry," Lyra whispered, gripping her sword tighter.
Thorne nodded. "Because it remembers everything. Every betrayal, every death. The land feeds on rage."
Raiden's eyes narrowed.
"And if the Smoldering Blade is here… it's buried beneath the bones of fury."
The Spirit of Vaelor
Their journey through the Wastes was unlike anything they had faced before. The ground shifted, whispering with voices of fallen warriors. Illusions clawed at their minds—visions of past battles, enemies reborn from memory.
Raiden saw his younger self again.
But this time, not the warrior.
The broken boy. The one who couldn't protect his mother. The one who chose exile over vengeance.
And standing before him… was Vaelor himself.
A massive war-god made of ember-forged armor and volcanic eyes, seated on a throne of shattered blades.
"You seek my relic," Vaelor boomed, his voice shaking the ash around them.
Raiden stepped forward. "I seek your strength to protect what I've built."
Vaelor rose. "Then show me your wrath. And prove it doesn't own you."
Trial by Fury
Suddenly, the battlefield around them exploded with flame and metal. Raiden was alone—his companions vanished.
All around him, enemies from his past returned:
The warlord who invaded his village.The captain who banished him.The Hollow Reflection, resurrected and grinning.Even a twisted version of Claire—mocking him with eyes full of betrayal.
They charged.
Raiden fought, but something was different.
This wasn't about winning.
It was about control.
Every time his anger threatened to take over, the flames around him burned wilder—unfocused, destructive. But when he fought with purpose, his strikes grew sharper, his aura steady and powerful.
At the peak of the chaos, Vaelor's voice boomed once more:
"Will you let vengeance consume you, Flameborn?"
Raiden planted his feet, closed his eyes, and whispered:
"I don't burn for revenge. I burn for hope."
A ring of golden fire erupted from him, disintegrating the illusions.
The battlefield went still.
Vaelor appeared before him, a slow smile spreading across his molten face.
"Then take it," he said, holding out the Smoldering Blade—blackened steel with glowing crimson veins, heavy with the power of gods.
Raiden took the blade.
And the moment he did, his chest-mark ignited with a second flame.
The Wastes Fall Silent
When Raiden stepped out of the battlefield, Lyra and Thorne rushed to him.
Thorne raised an eyebrow at the new weapon.
"That… doesn't look like it was just lying around."
Raiden smirked. "Had to fight a war for it."
Lyra grinned. "One down. Three to go."
Raiden looked out over the Wastes, the flames of Vaelor still flickering around the blade in his hand.
"Let the Hollow King feel this one coming."
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(To be Continue...)