Beneath the city, in a place that existed outside time and law, the Cradle of Ashes stirred awake.
It wasn't a place found on maps. It was a myth, a whisper passed between dissidents and dreamers. A sanctuary buried under centuries of rubble and regret.
And now, it thrummed with life.
Candles flickered along the ancient catacomb walls, casting shadows that danced like ghosts. In the center of the hollow chamber, Kaien stood shirtless, steam rising off his skin. Scars lined his back like crude brushstrokes. Across from him, an old man with silver hair and one arm folded behind his back watched in silence.
"You want to fight the gods," the man said at last.
Kaien met his gaze, unwavering. "No."
Silence.
"I want to remind them why they were once afraid of mortals."
The old man let the words hang.
Then he smiled—sharp, approving.
"Good."
---
Liora paced just outside the chamber, flanked by rebel soldiers with eyes like storm clouds. The deeper they got into this place, the more real everything became. These weren't just ideologues. These were warriors. Survivors. Believers.
She turned as a tall girl approached her—dark skin, white braids, and a glare like a sword unsheathed.
"You're the one who brought him in?" the girl asked.
"Yeah. Name's Liora."
"Arden. Commander of the Ashcloaks."
The handshake between them was brief but firm. Liora noted the subtle burn scars on Arden's palm.
"You don't look like a rebel," Liora said.
"You don't look like someone who'd run with a Heavenbreaker."
Liora blinked. "Wait. You… you knew?"
Arden nodded. "That mark on his back? That's not a tattoo. That's an ancient sigil. The Crest of Ruinfire. It appears once every century—always on the one destined to challenge the divine order."
"But that means…"
"Yeah," Arden said grimly. "Your friend isn't just strong. He's prophecy."
---
Back in the chamber, Kaien sparred with two Ashcloaks. Neither held back.
Fists slammed into ribs, elbows grazed his cheek, a boot clipped his jaw—but Kaien never fell. He moved with a rhythm both feral and refined. Every blow he took sparked something—heat. Not anger, not pain.
Memory.
The more he fought, the more he remembered. Not just how to move—but why he moved the way he did. He wasn't learning.
He was reclaiming.
The silver-haired man—Master Tenrai—watched with narrowed eyes.
When the match ended, Kaien stood winded but victorious.
Tenrai approached him, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You're not ready."
Kaien stiffened.
"But you're becoming ready."
Tenrai gestured to the edge of the chamber. There, embedded in the stone, lay a weapon.
It was long—wrapped in chains that pulsed faintly with heat. Not forged metal, but bone. Its hilt shimmered with symbols too old to name.
"This is Fellchain," Tenrai said. "The cursed blade of the first Heavenbreaker. It chooses no wielder. Only those the gods have forsaken."
Kaien stared at it.
"What happens if I try?"
Tenrai's eyes darkened. "You'll either die…"
"…or become something that can kill a god."
---
Aboveground, the divine enforcers continued their sweep. One agent—masked, female, barely older than Kaien—stood on a rooftop overlooking the slums. Her orders were clear: find and extract the boy known as Kaien Valis.
Alive or ash.
But as she peered through her scope, her finger trembled.
That name. That face.
It scratched at the edges of her memory.
Back in the divine citadels, she had no past. Only duty.
But the moment she saw him in the scope, something screamed inside her.
She lowered the rifle.
And whispered, "Kairo?"
---
Back in the Cradle of Ashes, Kaien stood alone before Fellchain.
The chamber was silent save for the pulse of his heartbeat.
He reached for the hilt.
The moment his fingers brushed the chain, fire licked up his arm—not flame, but something deeper. Older. His vision exploded into red. Screams, chants, collapsing heavens, a battlefield of broken thrones.
And then—calm.
He stood in a vast, white space.
Before him towered a figure draped in ember-black robes, chained at the throat, burning from within.
A voice spoke—not aloud, but inside his marrow.
"You who have suffered. You who have lost. You who laugh in the face of gods—"
"Will you burn everything to break their sky?"
Kaien met the gaze of the chained being and said, "Light the match."
---
Back in the chamber, the chains shattered.
Kaien gripped Fellchain, and it ignited—not with fire, but with intent. The blade shimmered, alive, thrumming with barely contained violence.
The Ashcloaks watched, stunned.
Tenrai stepped forward, eyes wide.
"It has chosen."
---
Far above, in Celestis Arc, a divine tremor shook the towers.
The golden god flinched.
"The blade awakens."
Another god—one who had once fought the original Heavenbreaker—whispered in fear.
"He remembers. And the chain remembers him."
---
Kaien stood in the chamber, the cursed blade at his side.
Liora entered, heart pounding, and saw the glow in his eyes—flickering like a torch in a storm.
"You okay?" she asked.
"No," Kaien said. "But I'm ready."
---